Disconnected
by Fizzy Starburst
Summary: It made him sick, all the wondering. Had he made the right choice? Would he be happier? If he had picked Petunia, would he lie awake at night and wonder what life would be like had he picked Vicki? Larryboy/League of Incredible Vegetables verse. Oneshot. Larry/Petunia with a Larry/Vicki endgame.


**AN: So I plotted and wrote the whole thing before going into work. Not my usual style of story - or more specifically, not my usual style of ending. Hope you enjoy!**

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><p>Tired eyes glanced at the clock next to him. 1:40 AM. He'd been trying to sleep for almost three hours now. He wanted to sleep, more than anything. He wanted to turn his mind off for a moment. To go a few hours without torturing himself with thoughts of "what if".<p>

And he hated that he spent night after night thinking the same things through. He should be happy – a billionaire former super hero with a beautiful wife and home and the possibility of a kid on the way. They had been trying, at least.

Sometimes he wondered if the reason they couldn't get pregnant was because this wasn't the right choice. It made him sick, all the wondering. Had he made the right choice? Would he be happier? If he had picked Petunia, would he lie awake at night and wonder what life would be like had he picked Vicki?

He felt terribly guilty, lying next to his slumbering wife while thoughts of the woman plagued his mind. And it wasn't like life with Vicki made him unhappy. They were content. He just felt unfulfilled. Incomplete. The redhead had, undoubtedly, lit a fire in him that had extinguished since losing her, and he wasn't sure that he'd ever feel complete again without her. He hadn't even spoken to Petunia in years. She may not have been a redhead anymore for all he knew. Almost as soon as LarryBoy announced his retirement he'd lost contact with her. And Bob. And…oh dear. He couldn't even remember S-Cape's real name.

Eyes travelling back to the digital clock on the bedside table, he sighed. 1:43 AM. This was the latest his thoughts had ever kept him up.

A blink, and then quietly, as to not wake Vicki, he pulled himself out of bed. Entering one of the many spare bedrooms the mansion possessed – especially now that the Larrycave had been retooled into more guest rooms – he opened his cell phone. Not his work phone. No, Vicki had made sure Petunia's number had been erased after a drunken phone call three nights before the wedding. But his older model – the phone he'd kept for Superhero use only – well, she popped up under the "V"'s.

The first ring – and he realizes that there's a good chance she's changed her phone number. And the thought scares him.

The second ring – and he wonders what he's hoping to get out of this if she _does _pick up. He's married. And as far as he knows, she's married too, with kids and a wonderful, perfect husband he could never live up to. He'd given her that chance when he picked Vicki over her, after all.

The third ring – and he's about to hang up. When suddenly, a light soprano voice yawns a soft "Hello?" and the voice is music to his ears. He'd forgotten how lovely her voice was – just how much he loved hearing it.

"Petunia?" he asked, even though there's no doubt in his mind that it really is her on the other line. "Hi. It's Larry."

"What?" she asked, her voice quiet and confused.

He sighed, before softly reexplaining "It's Larry. Larry Cuke?"

He got cut off by her affirming "No, no I know. It's just unexpected."

Both lines went quiet for a long time. He really hadn't thought this through. He had no idea what he wanted to say to her. He just needed to hear her voice again, or so he thought. Now all he could think about was how hard it was going to be to try to forget her again. Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn't hear her ask "Is something wrong?"

The accusation startled him. Of course that's what she must've thought. Why else would he call her up out of the blue? "No, no, everything's fine." He reassured her, before softly adding "I missed you."

The pause before she replied stirred anxiety in the young billionaire. Thankfully, it didn't take her too long to admit "I miss you, too. It's been four and a half years."

"I know." He had given a small nod, temporarily forgetting the woman couldn't see him. Voice shaking, he continued "And I'm so sorry about that. It's just…"

"There's no need to apologize." Her voice is soft, and kind, and quite honestly more than he deserved, given the context of what came next. "She's the one you want, and she doesn't want us talking. The least I can do is to respect that."

He didn't want it to, but it broke his heart a little. Petunia wanted him to be happy. That's all she ever wanted for him. And how does he repay her? Throwing her under a bus and not bothering to call for four years. "She still doesn't know." He whispered.

"Still doesn't know what?" Petunia's voice was quiet, too, despite being in an entirely different city. "The phone call thing or the super hero thing?"

"I meant the phone call thing." He admitted, swallowing hard in the process. "But…both. I guess."

He could practically hear her smile as she offered "Well hey, Larryboy's long gone now, right? What she doesn't know about him can't hurt her. And if you haven't told her about the phone call yet…" he could hear her voice waver slightly, and it put him on edge "…maybe she shouldn't know. I'm not around anymore, and if it helps you out…"

"But you're not the one who called, Petunia!" He choked out – only then realizing the tears in the back of his throat. He'd been holding onto this for years, after all. "I got cold feet and tried to blame you and that wasn't okay!"

"It's okay." Her whisper was gentle, soothing even. "I've already forgiven you for it. I've forgiven you for everything. It's okay."

'_I've forgiven you for everything_'. Of course, Larry knew exactly what that meant. He'd hurt her – he'd hurt her more than she let on all those years ago. He never wanted to hurt her. He didn't want anyone to get to hurt. Even though it was an old wound, it still stung.

"No." he stated firmly into the other end. "No, it's not okay. It's not okay that I have a beautiful wonderful wife and a perfect life and I feel like something's missing ever since you left. That's not okay."

"I didn't leave." He could hear the choke backed tears as she spoke. "You left. For her."

He was selfish. He'd always known it, but it was only now that he realized what an awful, disgusting, selfish human being he was. "Petunia…" he croaked out, despite the tears threatening to fall. "I'm sorry."

"Go to bed, Larry." She instructed. "Go crawl back into bed with your wife and kiss her on the forehead and dream of the wonderful life that awaits you and do yourself a favor and never call me again."

His head was swimming in thoughts of pure agony. She was right. She was always right. She always knew what was best for him. He never listened. "I love you." He told her, and immediately wished he hadn't.

There was silence, and then a sob, she was letting the tears fall freely now, and it was making his stomach churn knowing that he wasn't there to comfort her. In three words, she managed to break his heart more than he ever knew was possible – "No. You don't."

"Petun…" he tried, but the line was dead.

A deep shaky breath let his body, staring at his phone. He really ought to delete her number. Knowing she'd still be there was far too tempting. Moving to stand, he put the phone in a drawer and locked it shut – her contact number still pulled up, the image of him kissing her cheek to be forever associated with the number.

It was now 2:18 AM.

Larry did exactly as Petunia told him to. He crawled back into bed, kissed Vicki on the forehead, and eventually went numb enough to fall asleep, doomed to an eternal cycle of wondering about his choices, especially since once phone call had sparked a flame he thought had long died out.

It was exactly 3 months later when he finally pulled the phone back out, only to see 7 missed phone calls, all from exactly 3 months prior. He scrambled to dial the number back. It had been disconnected.


End file.
